


Because She's Ours

by ohmywhy



Category: Glee RPF
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Married Couple, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-13
Updated: 2014-12-13
Packaged: 2018-03-01 06:21:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2762873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohmywhy/pseuds/ohmywhy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>Prompt:</b> mpreg!chris where darren is away during xmas or new year for work and chris experiences braxton-hicks contractions so darren leaves everything to be with him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Because She's Ours

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mikaoru](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mikaoru/gifts).



Darren’s movie films in New York. And he’s anticipated the opportunity only from the very minute he was cast.

Except, apparently, he no longer wants to go.

Bowl full of popcorn in one hand, he wanders quietly into the living room. Chris sits on the couch, one hand carefully cradling his stomach, and he’s leaning back, head perched on the back of the couch, with his eyes closed. Darren smiles. Nothing in this world could be more beautiful than his pregnant husband.

In nearly two days, Darren’s set to leave to New York, but the more he looks at Chris and glances down at Chris’s full belly, gorgeously round, the more his heart stings thinking about what he might miss. What he doesn’t even know he’ll miss. Or even worse, what Chris might have to endure on his own without him.

In truth, it’s only two weeks. Darren spoke candidly to his director and producer, explaining Chris’s pregnancy and Darren’s urgency to be at Chris’s side every step of the way, and they were both incredibly understanding. So, they promised to need Darren for only two weeks. After two weeks, Chris would be hitting eight months, and although there would be another month to go, truthfully, the baby could arrive any day. And no one wanted to deprive Darren of that moment.

Both his mind and heart nag at him to stay. He realizes he’s exaggerating, not wanting to leave for two measly weeks to go  _film a movie_ , but all the same, he cannot silence the nervous beat of his heart that implores him to care for his heavily pregnant husband.

As he takes his seat beside Chris on the couch, Darren suddenly pipes up. “Do you think I could skip?” He nonchalantly throws popcorn into his mouth, and when he turns to look at Chris, Chris’s eyes are open, peering at him narrowly.

“Skip?” Chris asks. “Skip what?” Chris purses his lips, because he very well knows exactly what Darren’s referring to. Darren carefully drops the bowl of popcorn on the table. Silently, he searches for the remote between the couch cushions, points it at the television, and presses play. Leonardo Dicaprio’s voice fills the room. Darren purposefully evades Chris’s question, lifting his feet and laying them neatly across the table. In his periphery vision, he notices Chris sitting straight, body now turned to face him. Chris’s eyes are on him, he feels it, but it takes him a full two minutes to finally look at Chris. Amused, he laughs.

“What?” Darren extends his right arm behind Chris’s back, and before Chris can answer, he leans forward and kisses his husband’s cheek affectionately.

Chris narrows his eyes further. “Skip what, Darren?”

Darren looks back at the television. Leo’s going on about something, but Darren’s more invested in his own conversation, although it may not seem like it. He shrugs as a response. His eyes, nonetheless, remain on the movie. “Skip New York,” he responds suddenly, quietly. “Skip my movie for a little. I don’t want to go.”

Startled, Chris is taken aback. “You don’t want to go?” he inquires, and Darren pictures the confusion etched across his face. The cute, scrunched eyebrows. The two lines on either side of his nose. “You were so excited about this movie!”

Darren nods. Quietly, he says, “I was…” Finally, he turns his own body to face Chris again, and after his eyes linger across his husband’s delicate features, they linger a little too long on Chris’s stomach, and Chris sees exactly where this discussion is going. “I don’t want to leave you and the baby.”

Chris makes an amused sound. “You mean our  _unborn_ baby?”

“Yes,” Darren replies defensively. He sees little to no humor in this. “You  _and_ our unborn baby.” His hand crawls up Chris’s stomach. Chris lovingly places his own hand over Darren’s. “You really think,” Darren continues, “that I want to be away from you guys for two weeks? What if something happens to you while I’m gone? I refuse. Fuck that. The director can wait.” Again, he shrugs. “Or, he can just cast someone new. I don’t care.”

Of course he cares, but… his family far outweighs his responsibilities.

“Darren,” Chris begins, but Darren stops him immediately. He’s been married to Chris for three years now, and he knows his husband enough by now to know his answer.

“I know you’re going to tell me to go.” His tone is mocking. “And that you can take of yourself. And the baby’s fine, and it’s only two weeks! You’ll be writing most of the time, anyway. And I’ll be back before  _anything_  happens.”

Chris squeezes Darren’s hand gently. “So, if you know that’s what I’m going to tell you, why are we having this conversation?”

“Because that doesn’t change the fact that I don’t  _want_ to go.”

Chris sighs softly. He grabs the remote off the table to pause the movie. Darren then steals the opportunity to scooch closer, wrapping his right arm loosely around Chris’s body. His left hand continues to lay on Chris’s stomach, and he marvels at how quickly their daughter has grown. Before he knows it, she’ll be here.  _Here_. In their arms. His chest unexpectedly tightens, and with all the more reason, he remembers why he doesn’t want to go.

Not that he isn’t still excited about his movie. He is. Any opportunity to further his career, he considers the opportunity of a lifetime, but nothing matters more than this. Right here.

Chris sets the remote back down. “Darren…” he starts, but Darren tightens his arm around him.

“Go do what you love?” Darren offers.

Chris chuckles, “Yes… but don’t worry about me. About us. We’ll be fine. You heard the doctor yourself. Everything is running smoothly. I can take care of myself.” Chris’s eyes narrow playfully. “I almost resent you for thinking I can’t.”

Darren chuckles. “I know you can.”

“So, why are you so worried?”

“Because if something  _did_  happen, I would never forgive myself for not being there for you.”

Chris’s resolve visibly melts, and he doesn’t even attempt to resist kissing Darren. “You’re so damn cheesy, you know that, right?” he mutters against Darren’s lips.

Darren kisses him softly. “Mm, I know, but also honest.”

“Well,” Chris’s lips press slightly harder against Darren’s lips. “I will call you if anything happens, and you have my full permission to come running back.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Darren retorts lightheartedly, pulling away. They both resettle to resume their movie, Darren tenderly resting his head on Chris’s shoulder, their hands reuniting atop Chris’s belly.

“Why don’t you just come with me?” Darren suggests abruptly, but Chris smacks his hand lightly. “Darren, I’m seven months  _pregnant_. I can’t fly anywhere. I’ll be  _fine_. It’s just two weeks.”

Darren reaches for a handful of popcorn. “It was worth a shot.”

——-

In the end, Darren leaves. Chris spends six blissful days chained to his desk from sunrise to sundown, adept fingertips clicking away on his computer, bright eyes glued to his monitor, and words flying across the screen. He makes the most incredible progress. The win, however, surely comes at a loss, as he’s well aware of his husband’s absence. He misses even the most mundane qualities of their relationship, like the way Darren would have jumped to help Chris out of his desk chair. But in a small way, Chris is grateful he’s received the alone time to work on his writing. Really grateful.

That is, until around 11:30 pm Monday, when he’s beyond ready to fall into a well-deserved sleep. He climbs into his bed (with difficulty, he’ll admit), and right as he’s removing his glasses and setting them down on the bedside table, he feels it, a strong, uncomfortable pain emerging across his lower abdomen.

He worriedly runs his hand down his stomach, eyes wide with concern, thinking,  _Maybe it’s something silly, like gas_. But the pain worsens, his muscles tightening sharply, and he groans loudly.

“Oh my god,” he cries in fear.  _What if something is really wrong with the baby?_ Chris’s eyes water, but he swings his legs over the side of the bed and rushes out of his bedroom. The pain subsides, and he thinks maybe he’s in the clear. Yet, well within sixty seconds, it returns in full force. So, he grabs his car keys, thinks ‘Screw it’ since he’s really not supposed to be driving, and takes himself to the damn hospital.

The pain comes and goes, strengthens and weakens at completely random intervals, and all Chris thinks about is his lovely baby daughter. One or two tears slip out of his eyes, but he brushes them away harshly. He’s fine. They’re fine.

He doesn’t call Darren. In fairness, he should—after all, he’d promised he would—but phoning his husband was sort of the last thing on his mind. Ensuring he didn’t induce an early birth or accidentally miscarry his daughter topped his priority list.

He thinks about his husband, of course, cusses him out a few minutes for being so damn right, and wishes beyond anything that he were present, making his dumb ass jokes, but he’s too chockfull of anxiety and fear to even think about picking up his phone.

Darren’s phone does ring though. At approximately 2:50 am, he receives a phone call from an unknown phone number. He’s not entirely sure what wills him to answer, given that he’s been asleep for three hours now, but he does, and he’s quickly brought into a panic.

“Is this Mr. Darren Criss?”

“Yes…” he replies nervously. “How can I help you?”

“Hi, I’m calling from California Hospital Medical Center. Your husband, Christopher Colfer…”

That’s it. That’s enough to send Darren out of bed. It’s more than enough to send him running to a taxi. Driving directly to JFK airport. Mounting the first plane back home. Enough for him to arrive home at 6 am, suitcase in hand, and push the front door gently open. By now, he knows Chris only experienced Braxton Hick’s contractions, the nurse on the phone said as much, but he’s relieved to be home. He  _needs_ to be home. Needs to walk into his bedroom and see his peaceful, healthy husband asleep.

Darren cautiously drops his suitcase beside the door, careful to be quiet, and climbs into bed beside Chris, consequently dipping the mattress.

“If you’ve come to gloat,” Chris mutters sleepily, “You’re about five minutes early. I’m still not ready.”

Darren laughs. Smiling widely, he lays his head down on his pillow. His hand reaches out to push Chris’s hair away from his face, and he openly stares at his love, heart at peace to be back home. And not California, or even their house. But here. In this moment. And every moment with Chris. “No gloating,” he promises, bringing his hands up in surrender. “But I did prepare a hell of an awesome ‘I told you so’ song. It’s got a hook and  _everything_.”

Chris retorts quickly, “Save it.” His eyes are still tiny open slits, drowsy with sleep, but Darren suspects he’s glaring. “This doesn’t even count. You jinxed it. You sent us bad vibes.”

“You don’t believe in that crap,” Darren points out.  

“Well, there you go, then. You were right. Something happened. I can’t take care of myself anymore.”

Darren stops. Sighs heavily. He wraps his arm around Chris’s body, splaying his hand comfortingly on Chris’s back and pushing their bodies closer together. “Are you kidding?” he says. “You’re home, and safe, and sound, and the baby’s perfectly okay. I knew you could take care of yourself. I told you that.” Chris nods slowly, but Darren still finds the defeated look on his face.

“It wasn’t about that,” he continues. “It was just about me being home too. So you wouldn’t have had to drive yourself there, or freak out alone, or be without company. I want you to  _get_  that that’s why I’m here. And why I didn’t want to go. You’re Christopher Paul Colfer, man. I know you can do shit on your own. I love that about you. But this isn’t a Christopher Paul Colfer thing. This is a Chris and Darren thing. An  _us_ thing. She is  _our_ baby. So, I will take care of you, as long as you’re taking care of her. All you have to do is let me.”

Chris leans forward, and Darren closes the little space between them, meeting their lips softly in the middle. They kiss, and Darren’s hand cradles Chris’s face, his thumb running gently across his cheek.

After they pull away with a soft smack, Chris jokes, “So, what about after she’s born?”

“Oh, I don’t know, man,” Darren kisses Chris’s neck fervently. “That’s up to you. You said you could take care of yourself.”

Chris rolls his eyes. “Yeah, right, you’re gonna be like this for the rest of our lives.”

Darren’s lips travel delicately down Chris’s neck. “Well, that was sort of part of the marriage deal,” he mumbles against Chris’s skin.

“Is it too late to take it back?” Chris wonders with a smile.

“Oh yeah,” Darren pulls back from his neck. “Way too late.”

“Damn it.”

Darren and Chris press their lips together again, and Darren revels in the love. He’s thankful that nothing worrisome happened to Chris in his little time gone, or even worse, that his little girl was born without her Papa Darren.

The day she  _is_  born, in fact, nothing and no one keeps Darren from that moment.  


End file.
